Come sufi, and we will rip off the cloak of hypocrisy,
and draw an X defacing this portrait so prissy.
We pledge the alms and offerings of the monastery-
we will wash the cloak of deceit with winehouse sherry!
The secret of fate concealed by the invisible curtain-
drunk, we will tear the veil from its cheek to be certain.
We will jump out, tipsy with joy at the sufi’s banquet,
and plunder all, seizing wine and beauty to vet!
We will enjoy ourselves or, if not, die from regret
on the day the soul’s affairs are held to account.
Where the glance from her arched brow like a crescent,
for us to play the ball of time with a stick luminescent?
If, tomorrow, the garden of paradise is not granted to us,
servants and houris will be dragged out with great fuss!
Hafez, it is not our right to boast and be so smug-
why shove your foot out from under your own rug?